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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28064409">The Nose on His Face</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/round_robin/pseuds/round_robin'>round_robin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Enabler Eskel, First Time, Getting Together, Kaer Morhen, Kaer Morhen's Fanon Hot Springs (The Witcher), M/M, Oblivious Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Pining, Requited Unrequited Love, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Unrequited Crush, Winter At Kaer Morhen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:41:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,915</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28064409</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/round_robin/pseuds/round_robin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>That's where it started, Eskel was convinced. A lot of the younger boys gawked at them both with big moon eyes, handsome Eskel (back before the scars and all the... yeah) and Geralt with his brooding smolder. But Lambert always had an eye for Geralt alone, and spending a winter pressed together in the same bed, sharing warmth with the newly destroyed keep suddenly so cold, that's what pushed him over from a crush to a full blown infatuation. Nearly fifty years watching Lambert pine and Geralt not fucking notice a damn thing, Eskel was sick of it. This winter, either they fucked, or they killed each other, either way, they'd get their feelings out.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Lambert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>249</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Nose on His Face</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cylin/gifts">Cylin</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic is for Cylin, who asked me for Lambert/Geralt first time/getting together, and lots of soft boys. How could I refuse such a request? Sorry it took me two months, I got distracted, but I hope you enjoy &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Geralt in yet?”</p><p>Eskel rolled his eyes. <em>Every fucking time</em>. It started to get bad a few years ago, Lambert led with normal greetings: “Trip sucked, how was your year? What's for dinner? We all back yet?” which slowly became, “When's dinner? Geralt coming today or tomorrow?” and now it was just “Is Geralt here? Geralt in yet?” Lambert's school boy crush was so obvious to everyone... everyone, except Geralt.</p><p>The worst part was, the big idiot leaned into it unknowingly. He trained whenever Lambert asked, went down to the hot springs for a soak with him, played Gwent late into the night, just the two of them, and still, he didn't pick up on the feelings Lambert had been nursing for a long, long time.</p><p>After the attack, when there were so few of them left, Eskel and Geralt already shared a room in the winter and they didn't want to separate at first, they needed friends close at the moment; Lambert had his own room, he planned to share it with Leo until... The youngest Witcher came and knocked on their door. “Can I stay with you? It's, uh...” His mouth opened and shut a few times. “I never thought I'd want the castle filled with noise, but it's—”</p><p>“Too quiet.” Geralt nodded and stepped back from the door, inviting Lambert in. He dithered for a moment over whether he should ask to share Eskel's bed, or Geralt's. They ended up all climbing into Geralt's bed, Lambert smushed in the middle between him and Eskel. In winter, puppy piles in the dormitories were common, especially when it came to trainees and some of the younger Witchers, instructors preferred to drink ale and grumble together around the big cooking fire, but they were all still young enough to remember the comfort that came with a bed or a rug filled with pack mates... and now they were all they had left.</p><p>That's where it started, Eskel was convinced. A lot of the younger boys gawked at them both with big moon eyes, handsome Eskel (back before the scars and all the... yeah) and Geralt with his brooding smolder. But Lambert always had an eye for Geralt alone, and spending a winter pressed together in the same bed, sharing warmth with the newly destroyed keep suddenly so cold, that's what pushed him over from a crush to a full blown infatuation. Nearly fifty years watching Lambert pine and Geralt not fucking notice a damn thing, Eskel was sick of it. This winter, either they fucked, or they killed each other, either way, they'd get their feelings out.</p><p>Eskel shouldered one of Lambert's bags and walked with him up to his room. “Saw him on the mountain behind you, probably be in by tomorrow before supper.”</p><p>Lambert nodded. “Good. Don't like any of us out in the cold for too long.”</p><p>“He'll be fine. Just because you're a baby when it comes to the weather doesn't mean he is.” And that was his in. Eskel had the advantage here, since he was neither in love with Geralt, nor as oblivious as Geralt, he could formulate a plan. Because whenever a storm blew in, Lambert walked the castle in his sleep. Specifically: he walked to Eskel's room, crawling under the sheets like they had all those winters ago, curling up close and whispering Geralt's name in his ear.</p><p>The first time Lambert woke in his bed, eyes wide and afraid, then scowling and posturing, he swore Eskel to secrecy. “You can't... it's not what you think. The storms make me restless. So what if I look for help in my sleep? You won't tell anyone, will you?” <em>Anyone</em> in this scenario, being Geralt.</p><p>Eskel promised, he didn't breath a word of Lambert's nighttime walking to anyone, not even Lambert. And maybe the youngest Witcher never asked if he did anything embarrassing in his sleep (walking around, crawling into Eskel's bed was embarrassing enough, he supposed) and Eskel didn't tell. He gave his word after all.</p><p>Geralt did arrive before supper the next night and Lambert ran downstairs to meet him, slowing his step at the bottom to make his stroll more casual. Eskel shook his head and followed, greeting his oldest friend with a tight embrace. It was good to have the whole pack home, it felt like the relaxation of winter could truly begin.</p><p>“Storm's coming,” Geralt mumbled as they ate. Vesemir pushed another helping of potatoes onto each of their plates, the bulking of winter beginning already. “Dark clouds to the north, unless the wind shifts, it'll be here by midday tomorrow.”</p><p>Vesemir shrugged. “Walls are still in good shape. Lambert, patch the roof of the stables in the morning and we should be good.”</p><p>“Hmm,” Eskel hummed in agreement, hiding his smile in another bite of food. He didn't think he'd get a chance to try his plan so soon.</p><p>The next morning came and the wind hadn't shifted. They all ran around the keep, tending to last minute repairs, making sure the animals were safe and sheltered, adding more insulation to the stables; if needed, Geralt and Eskel could set up a temporary stall in the great hall, they'd done it before, but an early storm like this shouldn't be too bad. Just bad enough, Eskel hoped, for Lambert's restless sleep to drive him into Geralt's bed. When they retired for the night, Eskel made sure to lock his door, leaving Geralt's room the only option for Lambert's night wanderings.</p>
<hr/><p>It was still warm enough outside to melt the snow as it came down, producing sleet, which had a unique way of rattling the windows. Geralt growled at the maddening sound and thumped a pillow over his head. It was no use, Witcher hearing was a bitch and a half when it came to storms and he resigned himself to a sleepless night.</p><p>Another kind of rattle caught it attention, someone jiggling his door knob. Sitting up, Geralt eyed the door as it cracked open. “Eskel?”</p><p>The door pushed open and Lambert walked in, face half illuminated by the low fire. His eyes were drooping, but open just enough to see his way through the room and over to the bed. “Geralt,” he mumbled before falling on top of the bed. “Geralt. I'm sleepy.”</p><p>“Right... so why don't you sleep in your room?” Lambert hadn't asked to stay with him in years, back when he and Eskel shared a room. To say he didn't like it would be a bald faced lie, it was nice having a few warm bodies to keep the chill of the night at bay, especially with so few left. Being able to hold Eskel like they did when they were boys, and Lambert like they did when he was fresh from The Path, covered in scars—physical and mental—was nice, a rare comfort Witchers got to have.</p><p>“Storm,” Lambert answered. He was currently fighting with his sleep shirt, pulling it over his head to reveal a naked body, soft and warm, not long out of his own bed.</p><p>Ah, right. Lambert had trouble sleeping during storms. He liked to complain about it at the breakfast table. Out of his nightshirt now, Geralt politely averted his eyes and pushed back the covers for Lambert to slide in next to him. A very naked Lambert. Geralt hadn't owned a sleep shirt in years, making them both a bit skin to the wind, which was... well, it was something. He threw his shirt across the room and Geralt rolled his eyes. “I won't send you back out naked. Just hurry up, get in.”</p><p>Lambert did, crawling under the covers and collapsing next to Geralt, he started snoring immediately, the sound so loud, it almost drowned out the rattling windows. Geralt settled down into his bed, shaking his head at his new guest. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, focusing on the sound of Lambert's breath more than the storm outside. It helped.</p><p>Just as he was about to nod off, he heard a small sigh. “Thanks Geralt,” Lambert mumbled.</p><p>“You're welcome. Go to sleep.” After another moment, Geralt rolled over and spooned up behind him, sharing the warmth like they used to do in the old days, their nakedness not really important anymore. The wind howled around the old castle, but he didn't mind it so much, not with the steady beat of Lambert's heart and the slow rumble of his breath lulling Geralt to sleep.</p>
<hr/><p>“What the fuck.”</p><p>The bed dipped suddenly and the covers shifted, exposing Geralt's bare ass to the chilly morning air. “Fuck, Lambert, what?” Geralt peeled open his eyes and glared at the other Witcher, who was now over by the nearly dead fire, skin paler than usual. “What's wrong?”</p><p>Frantic eyes darted around for a second before Lambert realized his nakedness. Diving for his sleep shirt, he pulled it on so fast, he ripped one of the sleeves. “How did I get in here?”</p><p>What kind of question was that? “You came in last night. Said the storm woke you. I let you stay. I know you don't like the shitty weather.” Lambert was still shaking. Probably because it was fucking cold outside the warm covers, Geralt didn't know why he left. He flipped the edge of the blanket up in invitation. “Come back here, it's warm.”</p><p>Lambert didn't move. “I don't... I usually go to Eskel's room when I—” He clapped a hand over his mouth, almost trying to pull the words back behind his teeth. “Nevermind, sorry I bugged you last night.”</p><p>His torn sleep shirt half hanging off, Lambert was out Geralt's door before he could even get out of bed. He didn't understand, Eskel stayed in his room some nights when it got too cold, sharing body heat was natural for the School of the Damn Wolf. Lambert used to join them years ago, but then he stopped... Geralt didn't know why. He actually kind of missed it, both his brothers safe in his arms, Eskel's woodsy scent reminding him of nights they spent under the covers as initiates, swapping stories and showing off new injuries. And Lambert, spicy sweet and... there was just something to him, Geralt actually missed having him near at night, but they were all old now, too grown for puppy piles.</p><p>Geralt frowned to himself and tried to get some more sleep. It was no use though, whenever he closed his eyes, all he could see was Lambert's pale skin and shaking form, like he was <em>surprised</em> to find himself in Geralt's bed, when he's the one who invited himself in. Throwing the covers back, Geralt got dressed and stomped down to the great hall, helping Vesemir with breakfast, thoughts of Lambert stubbornly stuck in the back of his mind for the rest of the day.</p>
<hr/><p>Alright, Eskel would admit, he made a mistake. Clearly shoving them together and letting them work it out on their own was too subtle. And Lambert wouldn't talk to him all day, he knew Eskel had done something but couldn't figure out what. As an apology (but not with words, because they didn't do that, “I love you asshole,” was as close as they got to admitting they all had feelings) he left his door unlocked that night and, as usual, as soon as the windows started rattling, Lambert slept walked his way in.</p><p>Head of dark hair barely visible above the blankets, Eskel rubbed a hand over Lambert's back, getting a satisfied little <em>hmm</em>, in response. “I love you idiots,” he whispered into the dark, knowing Lambert was dead asleep despite murmured little words. “I want you to be happy. Even if I have to do it myself.”</p><p>The next morning, Lambert woke and immediately tensed up, ready to find himself somewhere he didn't expect to be. When Eskel looked over at him, he sagged back into the bed. They didn't talk about it, just went about their normal days, and once again, Eskel spent all fucking day watching Lambert find excuses to talk to Geralt, ask him about things he already knew the answers to.</p><p>“Did you get Roach and Scorpion yet? I can give her a brush down...”</p><p>“Thanks, but I already checked on them,” Geralt said, oblivious as ever.</p><p>Lambert scurried away before the talk could turn to how the hell he ended up in Geralt's bed the other night and Eskel had to fight not to roll his eyes. They all drifted to their separate corners of the castle, Lambert hemming and hawing over his still, Geralt stuffing training dummies before the straw got too wet, and Eskel stacking fire wood in the rooms. It gave him time to think of a new approach.</p><p>Eskel waited for the right moment, he was patient, but he didn't want to lose a whole winter to watching Lambert pine and Geralt being as observant as a brick wall. Thankfully, the perfect opportunity came after another week (a week of Lambert sleep walking into his bed, pushing his face into Eskel's chest and mumbling <em>Geralt</em>) when Vesemir threw a crossbow at Lambert. “Need you to hunt.”</p><p>He scowled, but shouldered the weapon anyway. “Why do I have to go?”</p><p>“Because Geralt is hauling ore from the mines and Eskel is felling trees. Wanna switch? Talk to them.” Vesemir walked away, leaving Lambert staring down at the crossbow. They all knew carrying a buck and a few rabbits back to the keep was far better than hauling ore or chopping down trees, so Lambert accepted his task and headed out.</p><p>Eskel waited until he heard the gate close, now it would take Lambert at least ten minutes to come back inside if he forgot something. He leaned over and snagged Geralt's arm before he could disappear. “After you're done, meet me in my room? Got somethin' to tell you.”</p><p>Geralt's brow furrowed. “Tell me now.”</p><p>“Nah, want to have a drink. If I send you off to the mine half cut Vesemir will make us run the walls.”</p><p>“Hmm, good point.” They both remembered the winters after the invasion, where drink was a good comfort and their chores were sloppy because of it... wanting to instill discipline in his last remaining sons, Vesemir set them all running the walls as they sweated out Lambert's moonshine and tried not to lose their lunch. “Alright, see you later, you're bringing the booze.”</p><p>“Deal.” They separated to go tend to their chores.</p><p>The repetitive chopping and stacking of wood helped Eskel think, because there was no easy way to say, “Lambert's been in love with you for decades, open your eyes, you great ass.” Part of him understood, Geralt managed to get himself caught up in far too many things—royal squabbles, dragon hunts, wars, the fucking Law of Surprise—it was easy to let the bullshit of The Path sweep you away... But winter was their time, time to rest and actually enjoy life. Geralt wasn't very good at leaving those earthly worries on the other side of Kaer Morhen's gates.</p><p>This wasn't just about Lambert's schoolboy crush, it was about Geralt too, how Eskel watched him float from lover to lover, never truly satisfied, never actually happy. They couldn't share their whole selves with most people, no one outside the school really <em>knew</em> them, so watching Geralt try to get close only to get rebuffed again and again broke Eskel's heart. Geralt was his brother, through and through, and Lambert was his friend... he just fucking wanted them to open their eyes.</p><p>Hours later, Eskel was done chopping wood and brought the cart into the courtyard, securing it under the tarp to keep it dry. He headed back inside just in time to see Geralt making his way down to the hot springs. Fuck, he needed a bath too, covered in sweat and dirt from the woods, and Geralt didn't look much better. He took a quick detour to his room to grab a bottle of the Erveluce he got as part of his payment on a contract in Toussaint, the hot springs were as good place as any for a frank conversation about how Geralt was an idiot and what steps he could take to correct that.</p><p>By the time he reached the warm cavern, Geralt was already scrubbing off, dunking his head under the water and getting the grime out of his hair. Setting the bottle down safely, Eskel stripped and got in. They washed in silence, splashing each other occasionally and snorting, it was like their training days again, their whole class sent down to the springs to wash up, a grumpy instructor in the corner, growling at them to hurry up. But there was no instructor now, no other boys, Geralt and Eskel were the only ones left from their class, their keep was empty, but that didn't mean everything had fallen to shit. They were more of a pack now than they were in those days, and it was time for Geralt to have an actual shot at happiness.</p><p>Geralt surfaced from under the water, hair splashing water everywhere as he leaned back against the stone wall of the pool. He nodded towards the bottle Eskel brought. “We talking here, then?”</p><p>“Sure, good as any place.” Eskel opened the bottle and offered the first sip to Geralt. He started slow. “You're my best friend, Geralt, we've been through a lot together.”</p><p>One snowy eyebrow climbed to his hairline, but Geralt nodded all the same. “No argument. You've been there for me through a lot of shit, and I like to think I've been there for you.”</p><p>“You have. I love you like a brother and I only want the best for you.” Eskel paused, waiting for that to really sink in.</p><p>Geralt dropped his chin, looking away at the sudden onslaught of emotion and took another drink, handing the bottle back. “What's this about?” he asked, voice low.</p><p>“Lambert.”</p><p>The tension that bunched Geralt's shoulders disappeared at the sudden change in subject. “Lambert?”</p><p>“Lambert,” Eskel repeated. “And how you haven't noticed he's in love with you.” He took another swig of the wine, he needed a little courage for this discussion too. Lambert was his friend and it felt odd exposing the other Witcher's emotions... but if fucking waking up in Geralt's bed didn't make them talk, drastic action was called for.</p><p>“You remember him and Leo? How they used to follow us around every winter, asking where we were going, if they could train with us. Then it was just Lambert. He wasn't doing it because he liked <em>me</em>, he wanted to get close to you. The White Wolf, you were fucking impressive even back then, and despite your poor life choices so far, he still has a thing for you. I'm tired of watching him try to get your attention and you fucking not noticing.” With a small huff, Eskel took a deep pull from the wine. He hadn't meant it to come out like that... but it was true. Geralt was too wrapped up in his life outside, winter was a time for them, for friends and family. They all needed the rest, Geralt most of all. “I just want you to be happy, and I'm tired of watching you look in all the wrong places. Especially when Lambert is <em>right there</em>, and I know you'll treat each other right.” He slumped back in the water, he said what he needed to say, and now Eskel closed his eyes, giving Geralt a moment to process.</p><p>Down in the hot springs cavern, the other sounds of the castle were muted, they heard Vesemir puttering around up in the library, but it sounded so far away... the rest of the castle couldn't touch them here, it was a sanctuary within a sanctuary, the one place where chores were a thought for later and relaxation was always the goal. It was... calm here. Geralt always had trouble gathering calm when he needed.</p><p>“The other night,” he finally said after taking a few more drinks from the now almost empty bottle. Eskel had more in his room and made a mental note to give some to Geralt as a Yule gift. “Lambert came into my room, he said he was sleepy. I thought—it was like that first decade. When we shared a room, he'd come by to get warm. But he hasn't done that in so long. It was... nice.”</p><p>“He comes to my room,” Eskel said, whispering the thing he promised never to reveal. “Whenever a storm blows in, he always comes to me, but he... I know he wants you. The other night I locked my door to make him go to you. Thought it might help you two figure things out.”</p><p>“Figure things out?” Geralt repeated. Lambert was a good friend, nothing more, and how did Eskel even know he wanted <em>more</em> from Geralt? How did Eskel know what Geralt might want? They were best friends, he told Eskel almost everything... everything except this, how he still missed those nights when they were all sharing a bed for warmth and comfort, to soothe the wounds still too fresh. Geralt missed it, but they were fucking grown ups now, not pups clinging together in the night.</p><p>“Lambert and Leo used to follow us around,” Eskel said again, “now Lambert follows <em>you</em> around. He asks to train with you, asks you to play Gwent. And you always say yes. You're so fucking close to realizing, and yet you can't see what's right in front of you.” Geralt scowled into the water and Eskel sighed. “Please, talk to him if you don't believe me. Ask him. Because I am tired of seeing you two dance around each other, then go out into the world to let it kick you. Winter is for licking our wounds and coming back to center. I won't spend another season watching you ignore the happiness that's clearly on offer.”</p><p>Eskel leaned his head back again, he'd said what he needed to say, now it was up to Geralt to figure out. And if he still didn't believe, well, Eskel might just have to lock them in a room and see what happened.</p><p>Geralt didn't say anything else for a very long time, thinking over Eskel's words, putting the pieces together. When they'd soaked long enough, the water rippled, Eskel moving to get out. Lunging across the pool, Geralt threw his arms around his neck, hugging him tight. “Thanks,” he whispered. “I've been... lonely. I didn't think anyone—”</p><p>“Wanted you?” Eskel chuckled and thumped his back, squeezing tighter. “As usual, you're so oblivious to your own attraction.” Geralt huffed a laugh and they got out of the water, toweling dry and gathering up their dirty clothes.</p><p>Making their way back through the keep, they were in the main hall when the doors creaked open, Lambert limping in under the weight of a stag and a belt full of rabbits. “Help? Anyone?” He spotted them and his scowl melted away, eyes flicking across Geralt's naked chest before dropping to the floor. “Never mind, you just got out of the bath.”</p><p>“We can help,” Geralt offered.</p><p>Lambert shook his head and managed to drag his game to the kitchen where Vesemir was waiting. Geralt bit his lip. “Fuck, you were right. Has he always looked at me like that?” The hunger in that split second gaze was <em>burning</em>, Geralt felt the heat more than the fire in the hall. Though the chill was starting to get to him, he wanted to follow Lambert, touch those too soft lips.</p><p>“Yup, been like that for about fifty years,” Eskel said.</p><p>“Ugh, fuck,” Geralt groaned, and threw his dirty breeches at Eskel when he laughed. “Why didn't you tell me sooner?”</p><p>“I thought you'd figure it out on your own. Clearly, I gave you too much credit.” That earned him another shove and they laughed and chuckled as they went upstairs to change into actual clothes.</p><p>They came back down to find Lambert gone, bathing in the springs. Geralt tried to hide his frown, now that he knew Lambert was interested (maybe, he trusted Eskel, but... yeah, there was always a seed of doubt) he wanted to act <em>now</em>. Pull the younger Witcher close and ask, “Do you want to talk? Do you want to stay in my room tonight? Do you want to let me kiss you?”</p><p>The other night played in his head over and over as they helped Vesemir clean the game Lambert brought in. The sleepy eyes, Lambert stumbling into his room and stripping, and he'd been doing this in Eskel's room for fuck knew how long? Geralt tried not to think of the hot skin pressed against his and failed; even when Eskel came to his room to shelter from a storm, cuddling close like they did when they were kids, it felt different with Lambert. He'd seen Eskel naked hundreds of times, more, there was nothing beyond it short of mild concern about a new scar. When Lambert stripped his shirt, fuck, Geralt <em>wanted</em> to look. He still wanted to look, wanted to go down to the springs and push against Lambert, kissing those indecently plush lips...</p><p>Geralt groaned and threw his head back, silently cursing towards the ceiling. Vesemir arched an eyebrow and said nothing, but Eskel smirked. “Yeah, you were really oblivious, brother.”</p><p>“I'm getting that.” Geralt spent the rest of the evening going over all the times Lambert asked him to spar, or play cards, all the little smiles and laughter when he was a scowling bastard most of the time, he always smiled when he was with Geralt. And now, Geralt wanted to make him smile on purpose.</p><p>Dinner came, and Geralt was having trouble keeping his eyes off Lambert. He tried not to stare, but all his skills at stealth and casual investigation (not looking like you were looking for something, good for figuring out if the contractor knew more than they were letting on) failed spectacularly, and he couldn't not stare at those full lips, the way Lambert's scars cut through his eyebrow sharpening what otherwise would be his very, <em>very</em> soft baby face... Fuck, how had it taken him so very long to find Lambert right under his damn nose?</p><p>Vesemir had a few drinks with them before turning in, and Eskel started busing their plates, just like any other night. But instead of Lambert pestering Geralt to do something, he reached across the table and nudged his arm. “Gwent?” Geralt asked.</p><p>Lambert shook himself out of whatever fog the long day of hunting pushed him into. “Really? You want to play? My deck is in my room.”</p><p>“Left my deck upstairs too, let's go.” Geralt stood up and walked towards the stairs, turning, looking for Lambert to follow. <em>Fuck, what am I doing?</em> he thought. He was coming on too strong, it was too much to expect, they'd all had a long day, maybe Geralt should try tomorrow, ask him straight out if Lambert wanted to—</p><p>Lambert stood up from the table and followed. “I'm going to the library, I think!” Eskel called after them. “You guys have a good night.”</p><p>Geralt didn't turn back again to see if Lambert was following as they made their way up the narrow staircase. He could hear the other Witcher's heart beating, hear Eskel still down in the hall, waiting for them to get wherever they were going. Geralt had no clue where they were going, what they were doing, all he did know was that he didn't want to play fucking Gwent.</p><p>Lambert's room was at the end of the hall, Eskel's next, then his. They were almost at the top of the stairs, about to separate and go the opposite direction, only to meet again and have to go through the fucking agony of playing Gwent, like Geralt didn't have the sudden and all consuming urge to kiss Lambert, after too many years of not damn noticing.</p><p>They reached the top of the stairs and Lambert turned, only to stop cold, Geralt's hand around his wrist. He looked down, then up to meet Geralt's eyes. “Gotta get my deck,” he said.</p><p>“I know, it's... I, uh...” Geralt squeezed his eyes shut, his hand still around Lambert's wrist. “I don't want to play Gwent.”</p><p>“Oh? What do you want to do?” Lambert fidgeted, his feet shifting, but he stayed close, close enough for Geralt to feel his heat and smell the spicy sweet tang of Lambert's skin.</p><p>All rational thought left Geralt's brain—he was never very good at that anyway—and he moved in close, their chests pressed together, lips inches away. “I really want to kiss you. Can I?”</p><p>Lambert froze, his heart hammering. “W-what?”</p><p>“I'm sorry I'm an idiot,” Geralt said. “It shouldn't have taken me this long... Fuck, can I kiss you? Please?”</p><p>“Yes.” Lambert barely breathed the word, but it was enough for Geralt. He moved in, pressing their lips together, tongue sweeping across Lambert's bottom lip. It tasted as good as it looked, and it looked delicious, so soft and warm and perfect. A Witcher had no right having lips that perfect, and now Geralt got to kiss them.</p><p>A shivering gasp offered an opening and Geralt slipped his tongue in Lambert's mouth, tasting the remains of their dinner, meat and ale and Lambert, all of it perfect. Fifty years. Fifty fucking years, Eskel said. Geralt was an idiot for not seeing. But he saw now, and he wasn't about to look away.</p><p>Shuddering, Lambert pulled back, hands on Geralt's shoulders. “Is this for real? What—what's happening?”</p><p>“What's happening is I'm an idiot.” Usually Lambert would take an admission like that and use it mercilessly, reminding Geralt that he was an idiot at every turn, by his own admission too. Lambert could do it, he didn't care anymore, all he wanted was to keep kissing, keep touching. “When you came to my bed, I forgot how much I enjoyed having you there. I like when you want me to keep you warm.”</p><p>Lambert froze again. “That was—it's not what you think. I was—”</p><p>“I don't care what it was.” Well, Geralt knew what it was, Eskel said as much, but they didn't need to get into that right now. “Come to my bed again? I want you, I think I have for a long time, but I'm too fucking stupid.”</p><p>Geralt dropped his hands to Lambert's waist and pulled him towards his bedroom. Lambert came along fine, but there was still this spooked look in his eye, like he might bolt at any moment. Geralt kept his hands soft, the way he touched a woman when he didn't want to scare her... but there was more here. He wasn't just trying to get his end away, he wanted Lambert in his bed for the rest of winter, wanted to kiss him, feel his heat between his legs... he just wanted, and he hoped Lambert wanted as much as he did.</p><p>The door closed behind them and Lambert jumped. Geralt was there, hands holding him close but loose, so he could pull away if he wanted. “Is this alright?” he asked.</p><p>Lambert nodded. “Yeah, just... what's <em>this</em>? What are we, uh, what do you want?” His heart was still far too fast, he couldn't help it. All the years he thought about Geralt, the older boy so far out of his league; waking up in his bed had been a moment of bliss followed by a terror Lambert had never felt. He feared getting what he wanted, because what if he wasn't good enough? What if he didn't measure up to a sorceress, or any number of beautiful bed partners Geralt had? What if Geralt didn't actually want him?</p><p>“Whatever you want. Please, let me touch you.” Large, scarred hands held tight to his waist, one going to the hem of his shirt and lifting.</p><p>Warm fingers brushed his skin and Lambert wanted to melt. “Yes, touch me.” Now that he had those hot hands on him, his fear vanished. Sure fingers stroked his belly, over his ribs, finally following the trail of hair down his stomach that disappeared under his breeches.</p><p>Geralt stopped there, then pulled Lambert over to the bed, depositing him on the mound of warm furs and blankets. He stepped back, but his eyes never left Lambert's face as he stripped off. Lambert had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. He'd seen Geralt naked before, in the hot springs mostly, but sometimes in the hall when his clothes were too filthy to traipse through the keep... this was somehow different. Instead of a body obscured by healing mineral water, Lambert saw everything, ever scar, every muscle, each roll of winter padding, the kind they all had. When Geralt stripped his boots and breeches, Lambert couldn't help the pitiful moan that came from him at the sight of Geralt's cock.</p><p>Thick and already standing up, a nest of dark curls at the base that Lambert longed to stick his nose in, get the full scent of the White Wolf. He'd seen it all before, but now it was just more. Lambert's own cock strained inside his breeches, begging to be let out. Lambert scrambled to open the ties, only to have his hands batted away by Geralt, eyes shining and hungry.</p><p>“Wanna see you. Is that okay?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Lambert said. It felt a little stupid to ask, as he was currently laying on Geralt's bed while Geralt was very naked in front of him, but a little curl of happiness spread through his stomach. “Yes, I want you to see me too.”</p><p>Geralt stripped him, carefully, but efficiently. Maybe one day they'd tease each other with a nice, slow show, but today was not that day. They both wanted naked skin against skin and as soon as Lambert was bare, Geralt wasted no time laying on top of him, their cocks brushing together, lips meeting. “What do you want?” Geralt mumbled into the kiss, lips glancing off to kiss his cheekbones before returning, tongue tangling with his. “I'd love to have you, but if you'd rather the other way—”</p><p>“No, that's fine.” Lambert arched up, moaning into the kiss as their cocks brushed together again. “You can—yeah, fuck me, I want it.”</p><p>Geralt smirked and pulled back, only far enough to get the tin of slick from his bedside table. Lambert noticed it there the other week when he woke in a panic, the idea of why Geralt had it out sending his brain into overdrive. “Nah, I'm not gonna fuck you. We're gonna make love. We both deserve it.”</p><p>“Make love?” Lambert snorted. “You reading those romance novels again?”</p><p>A high blush crept over Geralt's cheeks. “Maybe. But that's what we're going to do.”</p><p>“Alright, if you say so.”</p><p>Lambert lay back and watched Geralt work, watched him open the tin with a slick pop before dipping his fingers, gathering a healthy dollop of the soft salve, warm from the fire in the room. He opened his legs and threw his head back when one blunt finger brushed the outside of his hole, gently circling. “I can take more than that.”</p><p>“I know you can,” Geralt said. “But if you think I'm going to rush through opening you up the first time, you are mistaken.”</p><p>A shudder ran through Lambert at the thought: Geralt, slow and methodical in everything he did, taking his time to tease him open, working up from one finger to two, then three, brushing his prostate, making his cock leak and drool... “F-fuck.”</p><p>It was all that and more. Patient hands between his legs, the other resting at the base of his cock, not stroking, just holding. Lambert felt his orgasm approaching and gasped. The fingers inside him stilled, the hand squeezing down just enough to chase it away. As the urge to come retreated, Geralt smirked. “Want you to come when I'm inside you, if that's alright?”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah it's perfect.” Lambert was just happy he could form coherent sentences at this point.</p><p>When the third of Geralt's thick fingers slid in, he keened, bucking up off the bed. “Please, please,” he panted, “put it in me already, I can't wait anymore.”</p><p>Geralt's fingers retreated and two hands settled on his hips, rolling Lambert onto his side. Geralt vanished from his line of sight for a moment before his warm body spooned up behind him, slick cock nudging between his cheeks. “I know. We've waited long enough. I'm sorry I didn't see you like that.” A kiss behind his ear and he was slowly speared open on that cock. “I'll make it up to you, starting right now.”</p><p>Lambert wanted to have Geralt between his legs, look into his eyes as they fucked—no, made love—but when Geralt was fully seated, he saw why he wanted to do it like this. They were touching everywhere, from toes to nose. Lambert was only an inch or two shorter than Geralt, so they matched up almost perfectly, Geralt's knees bent behind his, chin slotted over his shoulder to kiss his cheek and blow soft breaths over his ear. Fuck, it was <em>perfect</em>, better than Lambert had ever dreamed it, and he had imagined it so many times. He imagined Geralt finding him in the corridor, stripping him down and taking him against the wall, or in the hot springs, or after training, anyway Geralt wanted him, Geralt could have him. And he wanted Lambert like this, soft and slow in his bed, each touch sparking along skin, warm kisses down his neck as that fat cock pushed into him almost too slow. It filled him up like nothing else ever had, lighting a deep satisfaction inside of him, similar to the high after a good kill, but so, so much more.</p><p>Wrapping his arms around Lambert, Geralt pulled him flush against his chest and started to thrust, lazy rolls of his hips, but he wanted to last, wanted to remember this feeling of the first time he actually opened his eyes and saw what was in front of him. He dropped a hand down to rub at the head of Lambert's cock, already slick with precome. “You feel amazing,” he whispered into his ear.</p><p>“So do you.” Lambert arched a little, leaning his head back in the crook of Geralt's shoulder. “Yeah, faster, please. I want to feel every inch of you.” Geralt picked up the pace, pushing in a little farther each time, the plush swell of Lambert's ass pushing back at him. Oh, how he wanted to sink his teeth into that ass, feel Lambert come on his fingers as he sucked a love bit into one cheek.</p><p>“So many years, we have a lot to catch up on,” Geralt grunted as he thrust faster, the wet sound of flesh against flesh filling the room. “Can I eat you out after I come? Or we can wait, do it tomorrow?”</p><p>“Tomorrow?” Lambert was surprised he could talk, his mind was floating off in another place, his body almost shaking with sensation of Geralt's every touch, right on the edge of coming.</p><p>“Yes, tomorrow. I want you in my bed all winter. Stay with me? Please? I want you.”</p><p>There was a low growl behind him and Geralt's hand sped up on his cock, pushing Lambert over. He came with a shouted “Yes!” seed pumping across Geralt's fingers. There was another soft growl behind him and the cock in his ass started to twitch and pulse, filling him.</p><p>Suddenly wrung out, they both melted into the sheets, Geralt still inside him. Lambert never wanted him to leave. “Stay tonight?” he whispered against the back of Lambert's neck.</p><p>“Yess, sure...” he slurred, eyes closing.</p><p>Geralt kissed the back of his neck and joined Lambert in sleep. They'd wake in a little while, sticky and sweaty. Geralt would slide down and lick his come out of Lambert's hole like he promised, pulling another shattering orgasm from them both before they settled in for sleep. But that was later, right now, Geralt wanted Lambert in his arms. He'd made them wait long enough.</p>
<hr/><p>The next morning, Eskel sat at the breakfast table with Vesemir. They didn't talk much other than to grumble about the day's chores. When Lambert and Geralt didn't show up, Vesemir frowned at all the left over food. “The fuck are they doing?”</p><p>But Eskel was smiling. “They're finally done being idiots,” he said.</p><p>Vesemir shook his head and stood up, heading towards the kitchen to clean up. “That'll be the day.”</p><p>Eskel finished off his plate and cleared the remaining food, putting the rest on a tray for the lovebirds. He took it upstairs and knocked before leaving the tray on the floor and scampering away. When Geralt opened the door, he looked down, grabbing for the note Eskel left under the plate of now cold bacon.</p><p><em>Fucking finally</em>.</p><p>For the rest of winter, even when a big storm blew in, Lambert didn't sleepwalk, because he already had a warm bed, and a strong pair of arms to keep him safe.</p>
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